


give you my wild, give you a child

by VictoriaGrimes



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beautiful Golden Fools | Cersei/Jaime Lannister-centric, Childbirth, F/M, I guess we could say fix-it?, Season 7/Season 8 Fix-It, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28921695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaGrimes/pseuds/VictoriaGrimes
Summary: The battle of Winterfell might be over but inside the castle's walls, another war for life is raging on.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister
Comments: 26
Kudos: 41





	give you my wild, give you a child

**Author's Note:**

> Hi loves!
> 
> So, I should say that I was forced to write this. I'm kidding. Only a little. But seriously, that idea sparked months ago with [masterofthewhisperers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofthewhisperers/pseuds/masterofthewhisperers) and then was lowkey forgotten until it was brought back to life again last month, inspiration struck and I started writing it. It's a little birthday gift for her, my twinsie bestie birthday! I know you witnessed the progress I've made in live Ky but, I still hope you'll love it! Sorry for being almost 3 days late but happy birthday bestie! ❤️🤪
> 
> Hope the rest of you will enjoy it too! Of course, I'm sorry for any possible typo left. I feel like I struggled more than ever here lmao. There is also a mild smutty passage in the first paragraphs, nothing graphic but I just wanted to warn you in case you want to skip it.
> 
> Enjoy and take care! ❤️

"Fuck," Jaime whispered after Tyrion broke the news in the middle of what was left of the battlefield, snow blending with ashes swirling around them as the world seemed to shatter under his feet, the frost biting his face.

He dropped his sword on the ground and panted, a thick, white cloud of mist coming out of his mouth and slowly fading in the dark cold night, and the adrenaline of the battle and the victory turned into the sheer regret to have brought Cersei here in the first place. 

Bringing her here, in her state, had been reckless. He could see that now. It had been a stupid idea to begin with, but he hadn't thought twice almost two months ago when they fought back in King's Landing over what they should do about the White Walkers. He had wanted to go North, to fight against the dead and give them a chance to live. Cersei, him, their baby. But Cersei had other plans. She had wanted to stay in the capital, to save the strength of their army for the other upcoming war, the one against the Dragon Queen. No matter their choice, they would have been fucked. One way or another. Then, learning she had conspired with Euron Greyjoy behind his back had been the spark feeding the fire inside him. He had been ready to leave on his own, had already turned his back while his heart cracked at the lack of trust she had in him, until she spoke.

" _No one would have believed us if you had been the one walking away from me. It would have put you at risk and I refused that. I did it to protect you,_ " she had said, forcing him to spin on his heels to glare at her, his jaw clenching. " _I told you, without you, this is all for nothing._ "

Bitter tears had started to foam in her eyes, green flames burning with rage and passion, and Jaime had rushed back to her, grabbing and kissing her until they were both out of breath. Cersei's fingers had already begun to work their way around to get rid of his armor, red and gold loudly clattering on the blue sea of the Westerosi map. He had pushed her against the table in response, ripping off and upping up her skirts, before he sunk on his knees and his face had disappeared between her thighs. Cersei's soft sighs had filled the room and his ears, his mouth nuzzling and tasting her core while his good hand protectively rested on the swell of her belly. When her release had grown close enough and her body had started to twist and shake under his touch, he had risen up on his feet, licking his lips. His sister had groaned in frustration, her hands seeking to unlace his breeches, and both desperate for some frictions, he had pressed himself inside of her, a relieved moan torn upon their lips at the familiar feeling of being whole again.

" _Come with me,_ " he had pleaded between each of his furious thrusts. " _Come with me, in the North. Let Qyburn handle the Kingdom and Euron Greyjoy while we buy time and ensure a truce with Daenerys Targaryen. Our army stays here to gather their strength, as you wanted but come with me._ "

And as they came undone, tangled together and gasping heavily, their lovemaking soothing their argument, Cersei had collapsed against him and murmured, " _Yes_." She had locked her eyes with his, a smile stretching their faces. " _Yes, I'll come with you_."

They had parted the next morning under utter discretion, wishing to avoid the suspicion that the Queen had left the capital. 

The journey to Winterfell had been dreadful. Over six months pregnant on the harsh roads in the winter and Cersei had become incredibly exhausted. Back then, the weather and the exhaustion hadn't made him reconsider his demand. He had been more relieved to have her by his side, away from the Kingdom's concerns and Euron Greyjoy. "We can take care of that later," the man had breathed with a devious smile when Cersei had announced she was carrying their child. The subtle threat against their baby's life had only fuelled Jaime's hatred for him, but he had swallowed his boiling anger once again, knowing they still needed allies. For now. He couldn't wait to get rid of him and serve his head on a plate to Cersei.

After weeks of travel, reaching the freezing North had been a blessing, despite the hostile welcome the Starks and the commoners gave them. They hadn't expected much better after the War of the Five Kings. Bran Stark had remained silent on the truth behind his fall though, while Daenerys Targaryen had made sure they knew she was disappointed they broke their promise to bring the Lannister army with them. Thankfully, with Tyrion's intervention, she had agreed to a new truce but, the glares she kept throwing at his sister, her envious eyes travelling down Cersei's swollen belly, always displeased Jaime and he had to refrain the urge to dive his sword between her ribs for daring to look at her that way. Jaime had no trust in the Dragon Queen but he had still hoped, if they ever survived the dead, she would at least hold the peace until Cersei and him made it back to King's Landing, just in time before the birth of their baby. Yet, it seemed their little cub had other plans on its own.

"Fuck, fuck," he cursed once more, louder, pacing back and forth. Through his deepest fears of never holding Cersei in his arms again and never having the chance to meet their child, he had expected to die tonight when he left her at the entry of the crypts hours ago, with a kiss he wished would linger on their lips until their last breath. But giving his life for them hadn't mattered if it meant they had a chance to survive. Even if Winterfell had fallen, Jaime had made sure Tyrion would take them as far away as he could, would save them. Still, he had fought harder than ever with the faithless wish to get back to them, and when the dead eventually collapsed for some reasons Jaime couldn't grasp, a surge of relief had crashed over him. He had been already on his way to find her, delighted at the prospect to feel the taste of her lips connected to his and their child kick under the touch of his hand again but he hadn't expected Tyrion to find him first and tell him Cersei had gone into labor while he was spilling blood and fighting death on the front line. "Where is she?"

"In your rooms," Tyrion replied, following his steps behind. 

Good. He knew the way to the rooms Sansa Stark had granted them at their arrival by heart now. He had navigated too many times between them, the war councils and the sparring sessions during the last few weeks. Cersei had stayed most of the time here, away from the hateful prying eyes, resting or busying herself with strategies and Qyburn's letters, unless they took their daily walk around the castle or dined in the Great Hall.

"Podrick!" Jaime yelled when he caught sight of the dark haired boy running in the courtyard. The young man stilled, startled by the tone of his voice, his eyes widening, before approaching him with quick, yet careful steps. "Help me remove my armor," he ordered.

The boy didn't waste time, taking care of his gorget and pauldrons while Jaime unbuckled his belt and tossed it on the ground.

"She is fine," Tyrion said and Jaime threw him a skeptical glance. His little brother shook his head, both knowing his poor attempt to calm his nerves was useless. Nonetheless, he kept talking, "As fine as she can be. Her contractions started over a little hour ago, I think. Maester Wolkan can't be with her, he is tending the wounded, but she has a midwife and Sansa is helping her."

As much as he should have been comforted to know Cersei wasn't alone, he didn't care. She was surely terrified at this moment, with their baby coming earlier than planned in an unknown land, surrounded by people who despised them and craved to witness their heads on a spike, ignoring if he was dead or alive. The only person Cersei needed was him.

Finally freed from his constricts, he clapped Podrick's shoulder to thank him and headed toward the castle, Tyrion still in tow. Someone shouted his name, somewhere, far away in the field. Jon Snow, maybe? Jaime couldn't tell for sure. He ignored it. Whoever it was, they didn't matter and, as they engulfed themselves down the stone cold walls of Winterfell, a maze of unending gloomy corridors, the voice and the rasping noise of the dying outside faded. Jaime pressed his steps, swift and quick moves more determined than ever to find the woman he loved and hold her, to whisper soothing words in her ear. Tyrion tried to catch up his pace by his side, almost in vain.

"I shall remind you," his brother suddenly spoke, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen upon them, "if it's a boy, Tyrion is a good name." Jaime couldn't tell if he was serious or tried to relieve the tension, maybe both, but he let out a nervous chuckle. "What?" Tyrion urged, his tone mildly offended. He frowned as they exchanged a look.

"Cersei mentioned it the other day," Jaime replied, remembering the conversation they had, snuggled in each other's arms under the warm, thick furs of their bed, "and she said if it's a boy, we won't name our son after you. She refuses to see that arrogant smirk on your face."

"I'm surprised," Tyrion scoffed. "I believed our sister would want to honor my small and glorious person." Amused by his brother's sarcastic comment, a grin stretched Jaime's lips. "Did you pick a name yet?" Tyrion wondered.

Jaime sighed, shaking his head. "No, not for a boy a least."

"And for a girl?"

His face softened at the question. He slowed down his tracks to share another glance with his brother. Tyrion's eyes gleamed with curiosity.

"You know which one," Jaime said, tilting his head.

While Cersei and him might have argued over which name to pick for a little boy for months now, they had both known, from the very beginning, they would give their mother's name to their daughter. To honor her.

The spark of interest in Tyrion's big pools turned into a melancholic smile. He lowered his chin. "Yes," he softly hummed. "Joanna is a good name." They made a few more strides before he eventually said, "I hope it's a girl."

Jaime nodded. They were also hoping for it.

" _I want a girl_ ," Cersei had whispered to him the night after she had publicly announced her pregnancy to the Kingdom, words mirroring his own wish. " _I think it's a girl,_ " she had affirmed then and Jaime had agreed with her as he had already noticed how she had started to pick up little habits similar to the ones she had when she was carrying Myrcella. Though, in the end, they would be delighted either way and prayed first and foremost for a healthy child.

His heart skipped a beat at the sudden, loud cry he knew all too well echoing through the walls. A cry he hadn't heard in years and yet, still made his blood burn under his skin with the same fear. Fear bringing their child into the world would deliver nothing but a death bed, crimson red drenching the sheets and pale blue flesh painting his sister's lips, and Jaime pushed harder on his feet, his heart now thumping in his chest as he was getting more and more close to Cersei. 

The door to their chamber came to his sight, with no guard to try to keep him out this time.

"Where is Jaime?" he heard his sister wail. "He should be here by now."

"Lord Tyrion is looking for him," replied a much calmer voice he recognized as Ned Stark's daughter. "I'm sure he'll find him soon."

Pained, raving moans he wished he could smother filled his ears in answer. His throat tightened before bursting into the room and his eyes immediately fell on her. His sister, his lover, the mother of his children, standing here, in the middle of their bedroom, stripped from her crimson velvet and left with only a simple shift clinging to the swollen curves of her body he had witnessed flowering with pride and joy those last few months, now panting and trying to grasp a breath of fresh air in her lungs through the pain of her labor.

Cersei lifted her flushed face to look at him, aware of his presence, and her gaze met his, her teary emeralds locked on him. She gasped in relief and recoiled from Sansa Stark's touch stroking her back, begging for the comfort of his embrace. The girl stepped away as Jaime hurried to wrap his arms around his sister and Cersei crumbled against him, tightly gripping the black leather of his jacket between her fingers. A sob slipped through her lips. "You're here," she whispered.

"Of course, I'm here," he replied, dropping a kiss on her head. "Did you think I would miss the birth of our child?"

She let out a small laugh and nodded a frantic " _No_ " before burying her nose further against his chest. He peppered more tender kisses on the crown of her golden hair, inhaling her scent to ease his worried nerves, and Jaime allowed himself to breathe again. 

They remained like that for a couple of minutes, perhaps more, he didn't know. They lost track of time, too busy dwelling on each other's clutch, until an unpleasant ache hit her again and he encouraged her to breathe. She swallowed, hard and slowly, inhaling and exhaling deep inspiration.

The contraction eventually washed away and Cersei spun between his arms to face him. They shared a little smile, eyes secured on the other, content to be reunited together at last, after such a frightening night, and Jaime dried a relieved tear rolling down her cheek. But his sister's perfect features quickly contorted from bliss to concern. "You're hurt," she sniffled.

Jaime shook his head. He had forgotten the cuts and blows he had tried to dodge during the battle. His own bruises had little importance when his sister was in such pain. "It doesn't matter," he countered. 

"You're bleeding." Her voice crackled.

A careful hand approached his face, Cersei's fingertips barely a brush against his bloody cheekbone, and Jaime leaned on her gentle touch. He pulled a kiss on her palm. Cersei's eyes drifted over his body then, looking for a wound she could have missed. A deep gash that could threaten his life.

"I'm fine, don't worry," he reassured and cautiously stiffened his grip around the soft curves of her waist. She lifted her green pools, holding his gaze, her eyelashes sparkling with silvery pearls. "I'm fine," he said again and Cersei's face melted before laying her head back close to his throbbing heart.

The red-haired girl cleared her throat, shattering their moment to remind them she was still here. "I don't think my presence is required anymore," Sansa spoke. "You have a midwife…" Jaime's eyes peered on the other woman he hadn't noticed until now, crouched next to the fireplace, to boil towels in a steaming pot. A Northern girl through and through, long face and black hair braided in simple patterns. "...and you have your brother." Cersei hummed, her soft sigh muffled by the fabric of his jacket. Jaime looked back at the young lady. Her lips twitched at the corner with an enigmatic smirk he couldn't decipher. "Let me know if you need anything else."

He gave her a brief nod and the girl took her leave. She looked every inch of her mother as she walked by, holding her head up, back straight, in charge of everything and everyone around the castle. Jaime had no doubt Catelyn Stark would have been proud of her daughter.

The heavy door creaked close, Tyrion and Sansa disappearing behind, and they partly and slowly untangled themselves after another contraction passed away. They made few, smooth steps toward the bed, Cersei holding onto him and his good hand never leaving the small of her back.

"It's too soon," Cersei whined as he helped her sit over the edge of the mattress.

Jaime pursued his lips. He knew. He could apologize and blame himself for bringing her here and put her and their child at such risk yet, in the end, if Cersei had stayed in King's Landing, he wouldn't have been able to be by her side at this moment. He wouldn't have been able to hold her hand and hear their baby's first cry.

He sunk on a knee before her, grabbing her hand. "Well, our baby said otherwise and wants to meet us," he teased. Cersei's mouth curled up into a slight smile, her mood brightened up by his antic as he had hoped. "It's going to be alright," he whispered and brought her hand to his lips to draw a small kiss over her feverish knuckles, wishing those last words would be heard by whatever Gods would accept to hear them.

Harsh, sharp waves of pain came back and forth, always growing stronger and more intense than the previous one, while Jaime could do nothing but listen to his sister's roars and watch her features twist in agony, reminding him how little power he had when Cersei's pregnancies came to the end, despite his best effort to relieve her from her discomfort. He could rub gentle circles in her back, pepper kisses all over her head and neck, and whisper comforting and encouraging words, nothing ever seemed enough to fade the pain away and make her feel better.

Cersei cleaning his cuts with the fresh water the midwife gave them provided a certain distraction though. He peeled the leather layer off his shoulders and let her wash the blood and the dirt off his face, only stopping the delicate touches of her fingers when a cramp took over her and it was Jaime's turn to wipe off the sweat coating her skin. But the distraction didn't last.

The hours stretched into a dreadful waiting and, as he watched Cersei growing more exhausted and impatient, the doubt their baby would ever come out fuelled his fear, unlocking the old memories of Joffrey's birth. That day had been endless and sizzling, with an army of midwives constantly bustling in the birthing room, barely giving them peace, and Cersei snapping at their orders. Their son had taken his time, leaving Cersei drained from her energy and crippling Jaime's thought, until he finally took his first gulp of air. Myrcella and Tommen's births had been far smoother and faster, yet Jaime hadn't been able to quiet the daunting visions of his sister bleeding out to death plaguing his mind. Visions still haunting him today. They paced, Cersei clinging to him, forcing him to swallow his worry, her pleas echoing through the castle's walls, short curls plastered on her forehead. And they paced and paced, until her legs couldn't bear her weight anymore, shaking, and he helped her to lay down on the bed. 

Cersei nestled her head on his lap, laying on her side, as Jaime settled next to her, one hand laced with his fingers and the other one cradling her bump, struggling to keep her eyes open.  
  
Staring at her resting form somehow pacified the tumult of emotions swirling in his mind and another feeling slowly bubbled inside him. A better, hopeful one. A feeling he hadn't dared to enjoy in the past, when Cersei had given birth to their children, out of fear his enthusiasm would betray their secret and be a death sentence to all of them. A feeling he had shut down the moment Cersei informed him she was carrying his child and they couldn't tell anyone Joffrey was his. But not anymore. Cersei had made sure everyone knew the truth this time. The jokes and small talks people could whisper behind their back didn't matter, and he could now allow himself to bath in the excitement of becoming a father, to share the joy and the anticipation of finally having a family with her.

"Why are you smiling?" Cersei asked, pulling him out of his daydream, curious green eyes dazzling at him.

"I was thinking," he started and his sister arched an eyebrow, "about our child, bearing our family name."

"At last," Cersei beamed with a murmur.

"And I was thinking, about our little cub cuddled in my arms."

Another thing Jaime didn't have to refrain anymore. The envy to hold their baby. He hadn't been able to do that with Joffrey or Tommen, Myrcella had been the mere exception, before she was taken from them and his heart cracked on that boat heading him back to King's Landing, but this child would be different. Jaime had been more eager than ever to watch his son or his daughter comfortablely nuzzled in the crook of his arm since Cersei told him she was pregnant and, he craved to slowly rock that little one to sleep like he had seen Cersei do hundred times before.  
  
Cersei's smile grew wider at that. She rolled on her back. Her face contorted in a pained grin as she pulled herself up with the help of her hands, to sit against the pillows, and, before he knew it, too absorbed by making sure she was comfortable enough, she captured his lips for a brief, sweet kiss.

"You'll hol-"

Her words died in her throat. Her breath hitched and Jaime's muscles clenched in his jaw, brows knitted together, at the sudden wince of her face. Clutching his tunic, Cersei leaned on him and buried her head in his neck, whimpering, grunting. "Breathe," he hissed. Wrapping his arm tighter around her, his golden hand traveled up and down against her hip, and she exhaled sharply.

Once the wave vanished, she lifted her chin, shivering. They stared into each other's eyes, her gaze silently assuring him she was fine, but too soon, another contraction rattled her aching body.

"I need to push," Cersei groaned between her teeth. "I need to push," she urged again and writhed as their eyes searched for the midwife in the corner of the room.

The girl, who became a shadow after Cersei had waved her off earlier, fumbled on her feet in a second, rinsing her hands in the basin of clear water by the fireplace before racing to their side and tossing aside the towels and blankets on the mattress she had grabbed on her way. She kneeled at the end of the bed, her fingers already pulling Cersei's knees apart. "I can see the head," she nodded. Her dark eyes fluttered over them, an expression sure and determined painting her solemn face instead of the look of terror Jaime had feared. A look that would have confirmed his doubt and telling them something was wrong, but no. "Take a deep breath," the midwife ordered, mimicking her own instruction and his sister did as she was told, inhaling a long, sharp breath. "And push at the next contraction."

And Cersei's weeps ripped up the walls, her hand squeezing his, his own fingers numb from the pressure crushing his bones and her nails digging into his skin, but he paid no mind, his mouth humming sweet nothings against her temple. Once. Twice. She paused after the third push, gasping for air, her head falling back on his shoulder, cheeks red from the efforts and emeralds sparkling with tears and sweat, and Jaime gulped the hard lump in his throat. Even worn and pantless, she was still radiant.

"You are doing great," he said, praising her softly to encourage her as much as to ease the terrible and impatient quivers in his chest.

"Doesn't feel like I'm doing great," Cersei rasped, and they shared a small laugh.

"You are," he affirmed and dropped a faint peck on her lips. 

"One last push, your Grace" the midwife prompted. "Your baby is almost here."

They nodded at the other, both knowing the agony would be all over soon and the reward that would come with it. "You can do it," Jaime said, narrowing his grip on their tied hands, and dwelling on her last strength, Cersei gave a long, determined hard push, her screams slipping through her lips, until the tension in her body feebled and she landed against his chest.

Blood soaking the white sheets mingled with meek cries growing into fierce roars collided into a new life as the midwife carefully and completely pulled their child out and Jaime let out a relieved chuckle in unison with Cersei at the sweet sound filling their ears before he started pressing kisses on his sister's cheek, giddy with admiration and pride at the strength she had born to bring their child into the world.

His eyes drifted over their child, loudly squealing between Cersei's legs, but much to his disappointment, the midwife's skilled hands blocked his view, busy taking care of the cord and cleaning off its little face, and didn't allow him to catch a glimpse of their baby. Though, it didn't last and soon, the woman eventually placed the squirming little bundle, half wrapped in a towel, wet golden hair crowning its head, in Cersei's waiting arms. "Congratulations, your Grace," she said, a broad smile brightening up her face.

The thumpers in Jaime's heart softened, his head spinning with a delirious joy at the sight  
of their baby nestled against Cersei's breast, its cries now dwindling in the safe warmth of its mother's embrace to turn into subtle babbles, and a burst of love pulsed in his chest. Then, he noticed it, at the same time Cersei did. "It's a girl," she sobbed and craned her neck to look at him, almost in disbelief. "It's a girl."

"I know, my love," he replied and Jaime's lips found hers, Cersei's hand reaching the side of his face to cradle his chin in response as he poured all his love in their kiss, strong and secure, until they broke apart to grasp a breath of air, their foreheads collapsing against each other.

Cersei recoiled after a moment, her eyes glowing with delight on him. "We have a daughter," she grinned and her thumb crushed a quiet tear dripping down his cheek.

He shook his head, a laugh escaping his throat. "We do."

"Marry me?" she wondered, her voice no louder than a whisper, and Jaime froze, his heart missing a beat or two, not sure he had heard quitely right. The words twirled in his mind. Two words he had asked her over and over again in the past when he knew what her answer would be and it was impossible. Two simple words he had never expected her to pronounce. _Marry me. Marry me. Marry me._ "Jaime?" Cersei called, her voice now hesitant at his lack of immediate answer, and the glee on her rosy face morphed into a frown.

"Yes," he eventually managed to answer, no hint of a doubt in his tone after years of longing for this moment to happen, and his mouth crashed on hers once again. "Yes, yes, of course, I'll marry you," he chanted between each of his kisses, their giggles filling the room.

A small fuss drew them to pull away and they lowered their gazes back on their new little lioness, perfect and precious, with her green eyes wide and confused about the new world around her, Cersei's spitting image.

Cersei softly shushed her, covering the crown of her head with tender blows, and the cause of their daughter's trouble quickly resolved at the newfound attention her mother gave her. 

"Hello, sweet girl," Jaime whispered at his turn, dropping a kiss on her closed tiny fist. 

She gaped at him in awe with her vibrant emeralds. A vivid rush of adoration tangled with pride flowed in Jaime's veins, wonderstruck by the delicate bundle Cersei and him created together, and the pieces of the spinning world around them fell into place. The truce with Daenerys Targaryen didn't matter. Euron Greyjoy and the Golden Company didn't matter. The throne, for all it worthed, didn't matter. All of this vanished as his eyes wandered over Cersei and their little girl snuggled against him and a smile stretched his lips. Only his family mattered. Only Cersei and their daughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the lyrics of "peace" by Taylor Swift.


End file.
